


The Newlyweds' Delight, Mark II

by StringedVictory



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Anal Play, Fucking Machines, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Sex Toys, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Night, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringedVictory/pseuds/StringedVictory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gil and Tarvek aren't sure quite what to expect on a Heterodyne wedding night. Agatha has a few Sparky tricks up her sleeve.<br/>Set at a safely ambiguous future time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Newlyweds' Delight, Mark II

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunsmasher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsmasher/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, sunsmasher! Have some campy, Sparky, wedded-bliss smut. Hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Gilgamesh toyed with the belt of his robe as he climbed the long, winding stairway to the Heterodyne’s bedchamber. It was warmer than he’d thought possible for a drafty stone structure, much warmer than he’d remembered- or so it must have been, anyway, since he could feel himself sweating even though it had been a temperate May in Mechanicsburg.

Then again, he reasoned, sweating was probably to be expected from those anticipating a wedding night with a Heterodyne.

It wasn’t the particulars of what went on in bed that worried him, exactly. He already had plenty of experience with that. He’d even made sure to reread the copy Zeetha had given him of _The Archer’s Quiver_ , which doubled as Skifander’s finest work of erotic literature and its national epic. 

No, what had Gil trembling like a schoolboy as he ascended the stairs was the same thing that had brought a flush to his cheeks when Agatha’s double engagement to him and Tarvek had been formally announced. That would be the eyes of all Mechanicsburg, which had grown ever more fixed upon the trio since that day. The Jägergenerals had bought a round for everyone at Mamma Gkika’s out of their winnings from the pool. The gingerbread vendors had immediately begun turning out Wulfenbach winged turrets and Sturmvoraus gears to go alongside the honey-dipped trilobites they ordinarily sold. “In Mechanicsburg, ve luff a party,” Mamma Gkika had explained, “und hyu kids are gonna haff vun helluva party.”

 

If the engagement had put the town in high spirits, the wedding had inspired a full bacchanalia. The Guild of Bakers had put together an enormous seven-tiered cake topped with what Agatha had fervently hoped were marzipan snails. Street musicians led the revelers in chorus after chorus of “The Lady Heterodyne’s Bloomers,” updated with new lyrics for the occasion. The city’s finest beer, wine and spirits flowed freely, which Gil credited with his ability to make it through the day.

The ceremony itself was exhausting. There had been all sorts of incomprehensible rituals beforehand in the abbey, and as he and Tarvek chanted oaths and drank strange concoctions and pricked their fingers on gleaming daggers the abbess had assured them that Agatha’s preparations were even more arcane. 

“No turning back now,” Gil had said, giving Tarvek’s hand a squeeze.

“Indeed not. And your collar needs fixing.” Tarvek tugged at the starched fabric until it arranged itself properly. From the steps of the abbey they could see the cheering crowds lining the route to the town square.

“What are we getting ourselves into?”

“Nothing that compares with what we’ve already gotten ourselves out of.” Tarvek leaned over and gave Gil a quick kiss. “Now we’d better get going. That’s our cue now.” A corps of trumpeters was beginning to sound a fanfare. Together they stepped out into the street, the harsh sunlight glinting off Tarvek’s spectacles and the buttons on their waistcoats, and the cheers grew even louder. One on each side of the street, they headed toward the square, waving to the revelers as they passed. Each was followed by a procession of attendants whose functions Gil couldn’t identify, but which Tarvek assured him were crucial elements of Mechanicsburg tradition.

And then suddenly they were standing on the dais, at the trilobite-adorned altar where all of Agatha’s ancestors in their turn had stood. The invocations and recitations and songs were all a blur. All Gil could remember was hearing himself and Tarvek gasp as one as the bride made her way into view, radiant in white, with a squadron of her tiny clanks carrying her train. Doctor Yglyn gave his blessing, Agatha kissed them each in turn, and at the urging of the crowd- Zeetha chief among them- Gil grabbed Tarvek by the lapels and kissed him too, to a backdrop of whoops and hollers.

“Finally,” whispered Agatha, as the recessional started up. “I can’t wait to take this monstrosity of a dress off and get some cake.”

“There’s more to being a newlywed despot than cake,” Tarvek reminded her.

“Talk to me again after the reception.”

The Great Hall at Castle Heterodyne was nearly as full as the streets. Friends and family jostled for position with visiting dignitaries as they waited to congratulate the trio. Adam and Lillith, beaming with pride, served cake and poured champagne. Zantabraxus, after fending off several prospective partners, maneuvered the Baron to the dance floor and began a routine that inspired Lillith to cover Maxinia’s eyes.

 **“Welcome home, milady!”** boomed the Castle. **“And welcome to the family, young gentlemen!”** A pair of suits of armor turned sharply on their heels and saluted Gil and Tarvek, who felt the matching battle-axes sweep past their ears.

“Thank you! Does that mean you’ll stop trying to kill us now?” Tarvek tugged nervously at his collar.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” muttered Gil.

 **“At least for now, until one or the other of you manages to give her an heir! May your marriage be long, happy… and fruitful.”** The Castle gave a floorboard-rattling chuckle, and the guests applauded.

“Ashtara bless your union!” Zeetha ran up to Agatha and thrust a brimming glass into her hand. “My zumil.” She planted a peck on Agatha’s forehead. “My brother.” She ruffled Gil’s hair. “And now… my brother-in-law!” She swept Tarvek up in both arms and lifted him off the floor.”

“Zeetha, are you sure that in your condition…”

“Condition? Ha! Listen to this guy!” Zeetha patted her belly and grinned. “In Skifander we keep training right up until we go into labor. That’s how my mother did it, and we turned out just fine!”

“I suppose we did,” admitted Gil, laughing.

“And so will mine. And yours, if Ashtara smiles on you, cha-cha-cha!” Zeetha gestured to the band, and began to sing. “Of the Lady Heterodyne’s bloomers, I’ve heard more than a couple rumors…”

Agatha groaned, but had to fight back a smile. “Not that thing again.”

Zeetha sauntered away triumphantly. “Lord Sturmvoraus trimmed ‘round the bottoms with lace, and in front there’s a hole for Lord Wulfenbach’s face…”

Gil spluttered. Tarvek’s cheeks began to turn the color of his hair.

Agatha shook her head. “Mechanicsburg for you. Wait until you hear the bit about my stockings.”

“That’s it. Time for another drink.” Gil attempted to weave his way through the crowd, and was promptly accosted by Theo and Sleipnir, then Dimo and Ognian, and narrowly avoided interrupting a private moment between Maxim and his date.

As the evening wore on, the dancers grew unsteady, the band off-kilter, and the toasts ever more risqué. Agatha sank into a chair, rubbing her feet, and waved Vanamonde over.

“Do you think they’ll mind terribly if I sneak upstairs?”

“Mind? They’re all so drunk they’d hardly notice.”

She scanned the room and had to agree. “In that case, I think I’ll be going.”

“Very well. A word of warning: The Castle has been known to set off fireworks upon the consummation of Heterodyne marriages.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Good night, milady.”

“Good night, Van.” 

Slowly, Agatha climbed the stairs from the Great Hall to the tower where she had claimed a small bedroom. Behind her she could hear the sounds of the merriment raging on into the night. A voice, quite possibly Theo’s, rose above the din: “Oh, the Lady Heterodyne’s corset, has a writ from each Pope to endorse it…”

More voices joined in. “It has one pair of laces for each deadly sin, because that’s what it takes just to keep her strapped in…”

She smiled. This was her town, all right. 

 

Gil reached the top of the stairs and opened the heavy stone door which led to the suites reserved for the reigning Heterodyne. Upon reaching the Great Bedchamber, he raised the brass door-knocker in the shape of a gargoyle and let it fall.

“Come in,” came Tarvek’s voice. “She’s not here yet.”

Each of them had only been in the Great Bedchamber once or twice, for the room Agatha had chosen as her boudoir was several doors down. It did indeed, as the rumors alleged, sleep six. Gil suspected that at least part of Agatha’s reasons for avoiding it had to do with the specter of her ancestors’ couplings.

He opened the door. Tarvek was lounging on the massive bed, clad in a robe of deep purple silk. His hair was undone, flowing across the pillows behind him. As he popped grapes into his mouth, he looked even more self-satisfied than usual. And Gil couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Oyster?” Tarvek indicated a large ice-filled bowl on the nightstand. 

Gil took one. “Where did these come from?”

“The Castle sent them up. Something about making sure we’d be ready to satisfy the Lady Heterodyne’s considerable appetites.”

Gil groaned. “The Castle? Is it going to be making helpful comments all night long?”

“Well, I said Agatha wouldn’t be happy to have her wedding night interrupted, and I haven’t heard a word since. It must be feeling unusually obliging.”

“I guess so.” Gil flopped onto the bed beside Tarvek, who threw an arm around his waist. He responded with a bite on Tarvek’s lower lip.

“Oh, come now, Wulfenbach. Surely you can manage a proper kiss.”

Gil obliged, pressing his lips to Tarvek’s and then parting them with his tongue. Tarvek’s hand found the back of his head, and then Tarvek was draped across him, stroking his chest where his dressing gown hung open. Gil relaxed into the kiss, letting his fingers tangle in that insufferably perfect Sturmvoraus hair.

Tarvek paused his attentions. “Should we wait for her?”

“I don’t see why. She’ll be delighted if she walks in on us already busy. And speaking of Agatha.” Gil sat up abruptly. “Is there anything, I don’t know, _special_ we ought to do for her?”

Tarvek raised an eyebrow. “Roses, candlelight, that sort of thing?”

“Not exactly. Of course _your_ first thought would be to get all fair-maiden, I-am-your-knight about it. I meant, you know. In bed.”

“Ah.” Tarvek considered the remark. “Really dazzle her, you mean?”

“Yeah. We’re at a disadvantage, you know. _She_ breaks out that Heterodyne voice and we just fall to pieces. And don’t deny it, Sturmvoraus. All she has to do is say “kneel, vassal”, and- he reached over to give Tarvek’s cock a squeeze- “you get hard as a rock.” Which, he noticed, was already the case at the moment.

“You, for once, have a point.” He pressed Gil’s hand against his erection. “Well, I did bring a little something, just in case.” Tarvek reached for the bedside table and took from it a small vial filled with a blue-black liquid.

Gil turned it over. “Doit #7?”

Tarvek nodded. “A Smoke Knight concoction. It’s supposed to, er, rouse the erotic impulses.”

“And this is supposed to help you incapacitate your enemies?”

“Even a little dose of this and they’ll be much too distracted to fight.”

Gil eyed the vial with suspicion. “Well, if we really need it, I suppose. Nerves and all that. Though from the look of things…” –another squeeze- “we won’t.”

“When I was a boy,” said Tarvek, setting the Doit #7 carefully back down, “my father sat me down and gave me a lecture on what men of Our Station were expected to do on the wedding night.”

“What did he say?”

Tarvek sighed. “He said that marriages were for producing children, and that you might as well start early if you want to make sure you have a successor.” Slipping into a reedy, nasal tenor, he added, “Tarvek, my boy, your task is to keep at it until she bears you an heir. If you ever want anything else, well, there will be mistresses and gigolos aplenty for that.”

Gil made a face. “Yikes.”

“Indeed. There I was, sixteen and terrified of the whole business, for all my poetry and serenades. In fact, I daresay all of that made it worse.” He slid a hand under Gil’s robe. “I suppose by now your lecherous ways have turned me into a libertine like yourself.”

“Wipe the smirk off your face, Sturmvoraus,” muttered Gil, through the distraction of Tarvek’s fondling. “You were always predisposed to decadence.”

“Was I really? I seem to recall I wasn’t the one who insisted on going to the Moulin Bleu the night before Professor LaFontaine’s anatomy exam.”

“And _I_ wasn’t the one who forgot his objections and came along anyway.” He took Tarvek’s wrist and lifted it from his own cock, now matching Tarvek’s in hardness. “I don’t see how any of this is relevant.” Grasping Tarvek’s other wrist, he got up from his position of repose and maneuvered Tarvek backward into the pillows. “What matters is that now you’re every bit the hedonist you always accused me of being.”

“All right.” Tarvek gave a dramatic sigh. “I admit it, so long as you’re going to do what I think you’re about to do.”

“Depends on what you think I’m doing.” Gil stretched himself out on his stomach, with plenty of room to spare at his feet. He wondered vaguely just what the old Heterodynes could possibly have wanted with such an immense bed. He tugged at the cord of Tarvek’s robe and pulled it open, revealing a long red shaft surrounded by neatly-groomed auburn hair.

“Well, _that,_ ” replied Tarvek, as Gil bent to lick him. “Keep doing that and you can slander me all you like.” Gil did his best to draw it out, slowly running his tongue from base to tip. He repeated the motion, faster this time, then again, until he lost all patience with the effort required of teasing and simply began to suck.

“I think,” Tarvek managed, breathless, “you were saying. Something. Agatha. About Agatha.”

“Do you want me to answer, or do you want me to keep sucking your dick?”

“Fair point. Keep at it.” Tarvek settled back and ran his fingers through Gil’s hair. “I was going to say, I’m sure we don’t need to recreate the entire _Ars Amatoria_.” Gil wrapped a hand around Tarvek’s prick and took the remaining length into his mouth. He tried a few strokes with the hand and noted with satisfaction the noise Tarvek made. “In fact, I’m sure she’ll- _ohhh_ \- have something up her own sleeve.”

“Oh, I’m enjoying this particular view just fine,” came a voice from the doorway.

“Agatha!” Gil turned his head to take in the view of her, momentarily abandoning the task at hand.

“Don’t let me distract you. If you’re looking to excite your bride, you can do exactly what you were just doing.”

Tarvek smirked. “The Heterodyne has spoken.” Gil did his best to return the smirk and resumed his attentions. Agatha strode over to the bed and perched herself on the edge to watch. The outlines of her nipples suggested that she was wearing nothing beneath her long, bottle-green negligée.

Resolving not to allow himself to be distracted any more, Gil stroked Tarvek’s shaft again, less gently this time, and started to suck more vigorously. The resulting series of incoherent noises from Tarvek, and squeals of delight from Agatha, gave him all the encouragement he needed. He jerked his head up and down in time with Tarvek’s panting and murmured, mangled versions of his name, until finally his mouth was flooded with a familiar alkaline tang, and Tarvek’s breathing gradually began to slow.

Gil raised his head and swallowed the mouthful. “Tastes like smug aristocrat.” 

“Don’t act so surprised.” They both looked to Agatha, awaiting her appraisal.

“Nicely done.” Her eyes were wide, and an earnest grin had spread itself across her face. “You two know how to get me hot and bothered.”

Tarvek, glasses askew, reached for her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Anything for a ruler so formidable, and a lady so fair.” Gil pretended to gag.

Agatha threw her arms around Gil and bent him back in a deep kiss. “Oh, it doesn’t taste like smug aristocrat,” she said sweetly. “More like loyal vassal.” She made her way to  
Tarvek and stretched herself out on top of him. “Right, Tarvek?” Before he could answer, she was licking at his lips and covering his mouth with hers. 

Gil drew himself up beside them, rested a hand on the curve of her bottom, and began to nibble her ear. “So, now that we’ve entertained you a bit, is there anything you’d been particularly hoping to do?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” she replied, untying Gil’s robe. “Anything to do with this lovely specimen, for one.” She wrapped her fingers around Gil’s thick, sturdy cock and gave it a gentle tug. “I’m sure one way or another I’ll come up with plenty for us to do.” Agatha smiled and licked her lips.

“Well, since we’re all disrobing by degrees,” said Tarvek, casting off his dressing-gown, “might I ask the Lady Heterodyne for a glimpse of her creamy bosom?”

“You can say ‘tits,’ Tarvek, this isn’t a drawing-room.” Gil followed suit with his own robe. 

“You have a point, Gil, but I don’t mind so much what you call them as what you do with them.” Agatha pulled the negligée over her head, revealing that Gil’s suspicions had been correct. She sprawled herself out over the huge bed, letting both of them savor the view of her naked form. Her breasts spilled out to her sides as she lay down, prompting Tarvek to take one in each hand and press them together so he could kiss them both at once. Gil brushed a hand over the curves of her belly and hips, running his fingers through the patch of dark blonde curls where her ample thighs began. Between the two of them, the men kissed and fondled their way over every inch of her. 

“Now, Agatha.” Tarvek’s hands were preoccupied, but he looked her in the eye. “You can’t expect us to believe you don’t have any Heterodyne tricks in store.”

“If you must know, I do.” Agatha sat up and wriggled out from under Gil’s head, which had found its way into her lap. She slid off of the bed, which was taller than even she had remembered, and landed on the floor next to the bedside table. First she opened the top drawer and began to rummage around. “Half-eaten sweets, a Trelawney Thorpe novel, a pocket-size dagger… when was the last time anyone cleaned this out?” She slammed the drawer and began to check the next one down. “This one’s mostly empty. I don’t think I left it in- ah, here we go.” When her hand emerged, it held a small velvet bag.

“What’s in there?” Gil’s first thought was another Smoke Knight creation, but Agatha opened the bag and drew out a small silver key. Walking to the foot of the bed, she beckoned them to join her. She pulled aside the black duvet adorned with trilobites, revealing a large chest, locked with a padlock and bearing the Heterodyne crest and the initials “SAH.” With the key she unlocked the padlock, and raised the lid a crack, revealing the words “Newlyweds’ Delight, Mark II.”

Tarvek adjusted his spectacles to peer at the words. “What is it?”

“My great-great-aunt Sophonisba’s hope chest. The original design was hers. I made a few modifications.” Agatha pressed a button next to the padlock and stepped back. The chest began to whir and click. 

“I take it she eventually married?” Gil inquired as the front of the chest folded down and the lid rose.

“Five times. Though personally I think it should be called the Spinster’s Delight instead.”

“Why?” Instinctively, Tarvek raised a hand to protect his face. 

“Well, it’s meant as something of, you know, a marital aid. But Sophonisba designed it in her school days, so I’m sure she got plenty of hard use out of it by herself.” Numerous mechanical arms bearing straps, stirrups, cushions, feathers, and a few other gadgets neither Tarvek nor Gil could recognize emerged from the box and elongated themselves until they reached over the bed.

“What does it do?” asked Gil, stepping closer to examine the chest.

“We get in, and it can position us any way we want in three dimensions. Upside down, sideways, you name it. Though I think for now we might want to stay upright. Once we’re in, I can control all the stimulating features however we like. It can vibrate, tickle, thrust, bounce…” She reached into the unfolded chest and pulled out a box covered in buttons and dials, attached to a long wire. 

“Wow.” Gil glanced from the machine to Agatha, whose face had taken on the same ecstatic expression she usually wore when she worked with machinery. “So, uh, how do we get started?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain it as we go.” She climbed onto the bed and patted the duvet next to her in an invitation to them to join her. They followed her up. She fiddled with several of the dials, and a matching pair of contraptions swung over to Gil and Tarvek. “Now buckle yourselves in.” The contraptions unfolded to reveal belts sized to fit their legs and waists, and ring-shaped seats. They obeyed.

“Pardon me,” said Tarvek, “but which, er, activities did you have in mind?”

“Well, street gossip- and Zeetha- has been buzzing for months about the question of who will be first to play the stud for Lady Heterodyne on her wedding night.” Agatha turned the dial again, and a third set of straps descended.

“A dilemma best left up to the lady herself, of course.”

“Quite right, Tarvek. And my mind is made up. I’m the Heterodyne. I shouldn’t have to choose.”

Gil looked puzzled. “I don’t follow.”

“With this set of controls, I can lift myself on and off both of you however I like. And there are plenty of tricks I can use to keep you hard when it isn’t your turn.”

“That’s brilliant!” 

“Why, thank you, Gil. Aunt Sophonisba had the idea. I just improved on it a bit.” 

“How’s that?”

“She only built it for two. Her five husbands were one at a time, not all at once. Can’t imagine why.” Agatha pressed a button and the machine deposited a small bottle in her outstretched hand.

“Oil for the machine?” asked Tarvek.

“No, oil for me. Who wants to apply it?” They both fumbled for the bottle, and Tarvek came up the winner. “Here, I’ll make it easy for you.” Another adjustment of the dials, and the machine lifted Agatha into the air and positioned her astride Tarvek’s lap. He tipped some of the scented oil out onto his palm and began to rub it between his fingers. She took his hand and slipped his slender, oiled finger into herself, enjoying the motion of his fingers and the rapt expression on his face. His hands were a craftsman’s hands, and they stroked her inside and out with the same delicate attention he paid to his most intricate inventions.

“Agatha, can you swing yourself over here? I want to taste,” pleaded Gil. Tarvek withdrew his hand, leaving Agatha to spin the dial until she was hanging in front of Gil. 

“Taste the Lady Heterodyne, vassal? You’ll have to do more than just taste.” She threw a leg over each of his shoulders. “You’ll have to amuse me.”

His smile broadened. “I’ll do my best.” Throwing his arms around her waist, he buried his face in her pussy, licking and teasing for all he was worth. For the second time that night, his lips and tongue coaxed soft noises and half-moaned words from a writhing lover.

“Gil,” she gasped. “Tarvek. One of you. Fuck me.” The phrase had once struck her as the sort of brazen thing best left for the dark corners of dance-halls, but with time and the charms of two brilliant young Sparks, she had come to realize that sometimes no euphemism would suffice.

“After you, Wulfenbach.”

Gil hardly needed to be told. Agatha reached for the controls and lowered herself onto his lap. She kissed him on the forehead, took his plump prick in her hand, and guided it into her. Another press of a button and the mechanical arms began to move the two of them in gentle complementary motions, Gil’s hips thrusting upward and Agatha rocking on top of him.

“Agatha, this is fantastic!” Gil stretched out his arms, relaxing into the rhythm of the machine. “All I have to do is enjoy the ride.” He grabbed Agatha’s waist with both hands, feeling her sway back and forth under the device’s control. Leaning back against the cushions, he let his eyes close and his breathing fall in time with the mechanical thrusting.  
She ran her hands over all of him she could reach, gripping his broad shoulders, touching his chest, pressing his muscles to feel their firmness.

“Lucky both of you,” said Tarvek, idly fondling himself as he watched them. 

“If you want your own hole filled, that can be arranged.” Yet another extension emerged from the chest, this one ending in a slender phallus about the width of Tarvek’s finger. He applied some of the scented oil to it, and Agatha directed its tip until it rested gently against his rump. “I’ll set it to tease you slowly while we have our fun over here.” Tarvek looked from Agatha’s bouncing breasts, to the sweat on Gilgamesh’s chest, to his own cock, which was growing firmer as he felt the dildo slide farther in.

“I’m close, Agatha. So close.” Gil was panting, gazing up at Agatha even as he tried to keep himself from coming on the spot.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we.” Agatha reached a hand out to Tarvek. “I believe it’s your turn now.” The machine extricated her from Gil’s embrace and deposited her atop Tarvek, letting her sink gently down onto his waiting cock. “Just let me get the settings right.” A brief fumble with the controls, and she was able to coordinate the pattern of her own motion with that of Tarvek and of the device thrusting into him. 

A low moan emerged from Tarvek as he felt himself entering and being entered at once. He caught Gil’s eye. “This is amazing,” he breathed. “You ought to be the jealous one now.”

Gil smiled. “Agatha, got a spare dildo for me?”

“Of course.” She pressed a button, and another phallic attachment swung into place. Tarvek handed Gil the bottle, and Gil set about applying the oil. 

Tarvek wrapped his arms around Agatha, pressing her breasts to his chest, and began to trace a line of kisses up her neck to her face. She met his lips with her own, savoring the closeness which extended from his nose bumping against hers all the way down to her pussy wrapped tight around his shaft. 

“Let’s turn up the settings, shall we?” Agatha’s features composed themselves into a devilish grin. Seeing Tarvek’s emphatic nod, she dialed in an uneven pattern of stronger thrusts. 

“Oh _yes_ ,” he whispered. “Just like that.” She could feel him shudder beneath her. “In fact-” His words trailed off for a moment. “Agatha, if we stay like this I won’t last much longer.”

“In that case, I’ll leave you to it for the moment. Shall I come back, Gil?”

"Anytime,” came his quick reply.

Agatha made her way over to Gil and knelt over him. “This time, I think a little something extra might be nice, right here,” she said, rubbing her clit. 

His eyes followed her hand, enjoying the sight of her fingers playing among the damp curls. “Are we talking biological, or mechanical?”

“Tonight, why not mechanical?” She selected a vibrating rod attachment coated in rubber, which she pressed between her legs. “This will do the trick.”

Gil gave his own cock a few teasing tugs, and then slid it back into her pussy with the help of more oil. He realized that he couldn’t quite identify the scent, then decided that Agatha probably whipped it up herself in her lab. She positioned the rod between them, and moaned as it vibrated against her.

“That feels good.” Gil was grinding upward, clearly enjoying the new accoutrement as much as she was.

“You can have it from both ends, if you want.”

“Why didn’t you say that before?” The dildo began to whir, filling him with a delightful quivering feeling. Agatha clenched her thighs tight around him, riding him and holding him and kissing him. Before long he knew he couldn’t possibly hold back much more. 

“Agatha. Lady Heterodyne.” The choice of address drew a smirk from Tarvek, but Gil didn’t care. “May I come inside you?”

By way of answer, Agatha simply nodded and kissed his forehead. Breath and jism rushed out of him at once. She felt his whole body relax, and he collapsed into the pillows.

Tarvek was already waiting for her. “Well done. I trust you’ll be needing my services next?”

“Of course, as soon as I sort Gil out.” She loosened the belts of his harness and let him remove the dildo. “And likely not for long, after a turn like that.” She turned the largest dial for what she knew would be the last time, and mounted Tarvek again.

Tarvek raised a hand to his mouth in feigned mortification. “Oh, my. I seem to be covered in Wulfenbach.”

“So you do. Which is just how I like it.” 

Agatha slipped the vibrating rod between them, so that his body kept it pressed against her. She turned her own settings to a rapid thrust, and set aside the controls of the machine. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on how her pussy felt, warm and slick and full of Tarvek. She laid her cheek on his shoulder to ride out the accelerating motion of the device. Clutching him tight with both arms, she shuddered and came.

**“I believe Lady Heterodyne is satisfied, then?”**

By way of response, Agatha could only nod before she yawned and sagged against Tarvek.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t interrupt us!” he howled.

**“It appears the time for interrupting is long past. Good night, Mistress and Masters.”**

Agatha disentangled herself from the machine and from Tarvek. “If you-” Agatha yawned again- “still need a hand…” She pressed a button, and a velvet-gloved mechanical hand descended to rest its fingers on Tarvek’s prick, which was still firm but slowly beginning to relax.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’d just as soon you let me out of this thing as well.” She obliged. He removed his pince-nez and set it on the bedside table. “I think by now I wouldn’t even be able to stay awake through it anyway.” He fumbled for the edge of the duvet and turned it down. As he slipped between the covers, he beckoned Agatha and an even-sleepier Gil to join him.

“Just a second.” Agatha tiptoed back to the foot of the bed and pressed a button just inside the lid of the machine. One by one, the levers and arms folded themselves up and away until the Newlyweds’ Delight resembled an ordinary chest again. Agatha shut the lid and locked it with the tiny key.

“Have to clean it tomorrow,” she mumbled as she slid between Tarvek and Gil.

The last thing she could remember as she nodded off was the sound of fireworks.


End file.
